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A Lifetime of Public Service Guided by Roots
Inside the Shared Story of Centro's Nonprofit and Its Executive Director
The streets of Cornelius, Ore., are lined with signs in Spanish, calling out to patrons, explaining services, or announcing business names. Among the busyness of the street signs and the people sits a small shop with the words MERCADO written in bold across the windows. There lies the entrance to a bustling food pantry, home to the stories of countless patrons, including Maria Caballero Rubio, Centro’s executive director.
“After 50 years, I came back to run the place and to make it grow,” Rubio said.
Established in 1972, Centro is a Latin-led and operated non-profit serving the Latin community in Oregon. The organization’s staff work to best identify and serve community needs, from essentials such as healthcare and access to clean food, to enrichment programs like baile folklorico, classes for the youth, and cultural events.
Once a recipient of Centro’s many services, Rubio has served as its executive director since 2015, when the organization was a blooming non-profit being tirelessly cared for by a small staff. “I was still a migrant farm worker, living in a labor camp, when Centro started serving the community,” Rubio said. “I had known about Centro because I lived here when it was being built.”
Brought up in a family of 13 during Centro’s inception, with 10 brothers and sisters and two devoted parents who migrated to the US from Mexico, Rubio grew up humbly, helping her parents with their work and living in labor camps that usually had no running water or air conditioning. Still, her mother’s selfless optimism stuck with Rubio.
“I observed my mother – who really was the matriarch of the family – and she would help anybody who needed help.” Rubio reflects on her mother’s willingness to give, recalling when an unhoused individual came by looking for food. “She grabbed a bowl and gave him the rest of the cereal,” Rubio explained. “There were 10 of us kids, and I looked at her, and she said, ‘God will provide. We have to give people the help when they ask for it.’ Sure enough, somehow, she made things happen.”
Despite having so little, Rubio’s family and community continuously helped one another out. They were a part of the small town that was connected by their line of work: farming.
“We were one of, I don't know, maybe 15 to 20 families that lived here,” she said. “Everybody knew each other. So this was all something very much known to me.”
The Importance of Migrant Workers to Centro’s Program
Centro saw the immediate need for healthcare in the community when, in 1975, the tragic death of Virginia Garcia shed light on the need for public health support. Garcia was a young girl working as a migrant farmworker who died of infection when she stepped on a rusty nail. In her honor, a healthcare center was founded to provide medical attention to those without insurance. “I remember coming to that clinic when I was probably 21, 22, and I remember walking into the garage,” Rubio said. “There was a big black tarp that separated the examining room from the reception area.”
This healthcare clinic began in the garage of the original Centro Cultural building and has since grown into a multi-location clinic serving thousands of underprivileged Oregonian patients.
The Bracero's Program of 1942-1964
Rubio’s story is in many ways interconnected with Centro’s. Her parents initially came to the United States in the 40s, during the Bracero Program of World War II. The program – which was introduced as a solution to the lack of labor during wartime – saw millions of Mexican migrants come to the United States on short-term work contracts, primarily on farms and in factories.
The braceros program eventually ended after 20 years, leaving many migrant workers without access to return home and stuck in subpar working and housing conditions. Several of the workers were denied reentry into Mexico, particularly if they had conceived children during their time here, an event Rubio’s family experienced firsthand.
“While they were here, they had my oldest [sister]. She was an infant when it was time to go back. And they literally had to take them off of the bus because they said, ‘You know, this child is an American citizen. She was born here, and you have to stay and take care of her here.’ So that's kind of how our family began our journey here in the United States.”
Moving between labor camps before eventually settling in Cornelius, Rubio said that it was hard for her family – like many migrant families – to find balance between work and education for the children. “We would leave early before school ended, and we would come late after school had started because we would go to a different state.”
To address these growing problems, several farmers began utilizing government-sponsored programs such as the Valley Migrant League. It was through such programs that inspired Rubio to begin her career.
“My first boss outside of working out in the farms was Sonny Montes,” she said. “Sonny was a director of Valley Migrant League, which was, at that time, a federally funded program, designed to help migrant workers settle here, get out of farm work, and get a job that pays more.”
Rubio credits Montes with giving her the start she needed to change her life, and with inspiring her to be the leader that she is today.
“We lived in the labor camp near where his office was, and he was looking for a secretary,” Rubio said. “So, he hired me as a receptionist/secretary, and eventually I became the education coach, and so I started working there as part of the staff.”
Rubio practices her beliefs as she runs Centro, both by hiring new high school and college graduates as staff members and by creating after-school programs for children, like STEM robotics clubs and baile folklorico classes.
“I believe in giving people an opportunity to be leaders. Yes, they're going to make mistakes, and I know that, and they know that,” Rubio said. “But we talk about the mistakes, and then they learn from them.”
Centro’s Services and Rubio’s Mission During Today’s Climate
While Centro’s main focus has always been on meeting community needs, which, according to Rubio, are many, the growing need for entrepreneurial guidance, housing, and access to food has led Centro to expand its services.
During the COVID-19 pandemic, the non-profit saw an influx of families needing food. “So we started bringing in food from donations and from different grocery stores. Eventually, we started a food bank, and it was here in our backyard.”
Centro developed its own unique food bank system, where patrons could come in, browse the store, and select products, completely free of charge. Rubio noted that allowing people to have autonomy over their food choices and access to ingredients that they were familiar with was essential.
“We were able to reach out and get food that [the community] knew how to use: beans and rice. Those kinds of staples,” Rubio explained.
Recognizing the importance of essential services such as health care, food supplies, and education, Centro has also hosted cultural festivities such as fiestas patrias in September, Día de los Muertos parties in October, and even networking events for Latina entrepreneurs to both seek and become mentors. These events are not only an extra communal celebration put on by Centro, but a cultural obligation, said Rubio.
“We felt that it was part of our duty to share our culture,” Rubio said, “Part of our culture is bringing people together, and it's also sharing our culture.”
After over 50 years of these celebrations, Rubio said she feels that Centro has played a big role in cultural celebrations becoming the norm for other facilities, such as local stores, libraries, and schools.
Still, Rubio strives to continue bringing in new resources whenever possible to help those in need. Though she admits it’s not always as simple as it once was.
“It's really hard right now, not only for Centro, but for a lot of nonprofits because [government] grants aren't out there. The government isn't putting out very much for us to apply for.”
Along with the strain of fewer donations and grants, Centro has also had to navigate growing tensions caused by recent ICE raids across Oregon.
“During the first Trump administration, people would come here for services,” Rubio explained. “There was terror; people were fearful at that time. People are fearful again now that we have Trump too.”
Despite the circumstances, Centro has continued to serve the community with open arms, taking the safety of their patrons seriously. After the ICE raids began last year, Centro took immediate action. They added security cameras, do not allow any agents into their buildings without warrants, and ensure that their patrons' information remains strictly confidential. According to Rubio, this is why non-profits like Centro are so vital right now.
“I think safety is a big issue for a community. And fortunately, I feel that this is a safe place for a community,” she said.
Rubio is a daughter of the Centro community, in her career, history, and in her mentality. From a young girl who lived and worked in the fields to the head of the non-profit she once sought services from, Rubio attributes her success to one thing: giving opportunities like the ones she was once given.
“I think one of my greatest strengths is mentoring and growing young leaders. I believe that every young professional brings leadership with them. We just give them an opportunity to use it.”
To learn more about Centro, Maria Caballero Rubio, and how you can contribute, visit their website: https://www.centrocultural.org
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